


This Is Bad Comedy

by cythraul



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Crack Pairing, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cythraul/pseuds/cythraul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've made no effort to establish ST:TNG for those unfamiliar with it.  I think the tone of this fic calls for a very brisk pace.</p>
    </blockquote>





	This Is Bad Comedy

**Author's Note:**

> I've made no effort to establish ST:TNG for those unfamiliar with it. I think the tone of this fic calls for a very brisk pace.

On the return trip, Troi met her mother in the transporter room.

“Mother…” Deanna began.

“Little One, I will not hear it this time!” Lwaxana used the height of the transporter pad to _loom_ over her daughter.  “Please, if you can’t be supportive, just see me to my quarters.”

There was no point in plastering on a diplomatic smile with a Betazoid who could see right through it.  “Mother, I don’t even know where to _begin!_ ”

The transporter officer studied her console like it was displaying instructions for curing death.

Lwaxana sighed, and stepped off the transporter pad.  “Computer!”  The _Enterprise_ computer chirped.  “If you’d be so kind, please show me the way to my quarters.”  A wall panel out in the hall lit up with a bright green arrow. 

Mr. Homm followed.

Deanna kept at her mother’s side. “He’s _ficticious!_ ”  She skipped over _you just met him_.  That one always bounced off.

“Now, _Deanna_.”  Lwaxana set a brisk pace, pausing at the occasional juncture to wait for the computer to indicate which path to take. “So his mind is made of isolinear chips!  So is Mr. Data’s!”  She turned to face her daughter, and mimed waltzing with an invisible partner.  “And so what if his body is force-fields and fairy-dust – this _won’t_ be my first time on the holodeck.”  She favoured her daughter with a smile. “ _I_ know he’ll still feel real.”

Too Much Information was an effective goad for her Terran crewmates, but Deanna was immune to it – she was Betazoid _and_ ship’s counselor.  Deanna rounded on her mother.  “Including when he _crushes_ you beneath his _giant metal boots!_ ”

*

When Commander Riker walked into the Captain’s ready room, he found Captain Picard sitting at his desk, his face buried in his hands.

“Number One.”  The Captain spoke without looking up.  He sounded decades older than he had just a few minutes before.

Riker came forward far enough to let the door hiss shut behind him.  “Sir?”

Picard spoke very slowly.  “Why, in the name of every god revered on every world in the _galaxy_ , do we keep giving her _postings_ … and _why_ does she always end up hitching a ride _on my ship?_ ”

All became clear.  “Ambassador Troi,” Riker said.

“Am _bass_ ador _Troi_.”  Picard lifted his head, and reached over to the video comm-console on his desk.  He turned it around, to show Riker the screen.

The comm-console displayed what looked like white parchment, with elegant scrollwork in red and gold along its edges, and text in black calligraphy.  The text read:

You,

_Captain Jean-Luc Picard,_

Are joyously invited to Holodeck 1

_On Stardate 47261.2_

To witness and celebrate the joining in matrimony

_of_

LWAXANA TROI

DAUGHTER OF THE FIFTH HOUSE

HOLDER OF THE SACRED CHALICE OF RIXX

HEIR TO THE HOLY RINGS OF BETAZED

_and_

STARSCREAM

EMPEROR OF CYBERTRON

LORD OF ALL DECEPTICONS

Dress code: Nude

Reception and banquet to follow

Picard leveled a gaze at his First Officer that seemed to bespeak _aeons_ of suffering.  “ _Deal_ with this.”


End file.
